Hickory Dickory Dock
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Abigail's cuckoo clock is broken, and then fixed?


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><em>T<em>_here's a sad sort of clanging in the clock in the hall, and the bells in the steeple, too; and up in the nursery an absurd little bird is popping out to say 'cuckoo'._

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><p>He cautiously poked the wooden pendulum, flinching as it swung away from his touch.<p>

"Henry. That's _meant_ to swing - I want to know why the music won't play anymore."

"Abigail, couldn't we just take this to be repaired - or even purchase you another?" He turned back to his wife, who sat on the sofa painstakingly _re-_patching her son's pants - long worn out from play.

"And give up the memories that came with it? No, we are not replacing it." Abigail put aside her sewing and came over to the cuckoo clock where Henry stood. "Here, let's see if it's not just something simple - gears in need of cleaning, or a wire come off it's spoke."

Henry sighed and smiled, taking the weights off the chains, and carefully lifting the clock down off the wall. Laying it face down, he slid the latches over, and took the back off the clock. Both Henry and Abigail stared at the complicated mess of wires, gears, and contraptions filling the inside of the clock - looking at each other, they started to laugh.

"Either..it's terribly broken...and we have no idea as to where...anything goes, or...nothing's wrong...and we still..don't know where anything goes," Henry pointed out as he struggled to catch his breath. "Perhaps 'twould be better to take it to someone who knows what he is doing..."

"Rather.." She agreed, falling into laughter again at the confused and frightened look that had crossed Henry's face when he had first seen the mechanism inside the clock.

"Mom, what are you laughing about?" Abe looked down to the coffee table where the clock lay, and his eyes widened. "Mom! Dad broke the clock!"

Abigail opened her mouth to try to explain the humourous situation to her son, but collapsed in helpless laughter on the sofa at Abe's erroneous conclusion as to the fate of the clock. Henry stared at his son in shock, struck speechless that Abe would automatically assume he had broken it. He turned to his wife for help, but she was still laughing, so he was left on his own.

"Dad, did you mean to break the clock - are you in trouble?" Abe's eyes were wide as he watched Henry.

"No, I'm not in trouble - and I didn't break the clock."

Abe frowned. "Yes, you did. The back is broken!"

"Abe, it's not nice to contradict people," Henry scolded gently, reaching out a hand to his son. "And it's not broken, see? It slides back in, just like this..." Situating Abe where he could see, the Doctor carefully fitted the back into place in the slot, latching it into place. "There. It's well now."

Abe grinned. "Will it sing again?"

"Well, not exactly..."

"Then it's still broken?"

"Yes," Henry sighed, "It's still broken. Mother and I will take it to be repaired later; then it will sing again." He stood up, glancing at his wife as she caught her breath. "I'll fetch a glass of water for you."

Filling a glass of water for Abigail in the kitchen, he could hear her moving the clock to a side table, and explaining to Abe that he 'must not ever touch it - not until he was a little older'. Moments later, she joined him, gratefully accepting the water. Listening to Abe putting away his playclothes, the parents shared another smile at the events of the morning.

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><p>Henry hung up his and Abigail's coats up in the closet, letting himself relax.<p>

They had gone for a walk in the park, and had stopped on the way back to see an acquaintance of Henry's who worked with clocks, and had been kind enough to give him a small instruction manual and diagram for him to follow. He leaned against the wall, listening to the sounds of the house around him.

Abigail was in the kitchen, and the clatter as she moved around and began dinner was soothing. He heard Abe come downstairs from his room, where he had stayed as he hadn't wanted to go on a walk with them, and talk with Abigail in the kitchen. Soon, Abe had left the kitchen and returned to his room, and Henry made his way through the sitting room to see him.

"Abraham?" He gently knocked on the door, glancing into the room.

"Dad! Look what I did for you!" Abe clambered off the bed towards his father, carefully balancing the cuckoo clock in his arms. "I fixed it!"

Henry took the clock, still in shock, and uncertain to cry at the sheer amount of damage done to the wires and movement of the clock; or to laugh at Abe's joyous, expectant face.

"You...you fixed this."

"Yes! Now it will sing again, won't it?"

Henry nodded mutely, glancing across the bed where several 'spare' gears and spokes lay scattered, and he winced to think what may have happened to any fasteners that had been set down and forgotten about.

"Abe, this was very...thoughtful, of you - but didn't your mother tell you not to touch her clock?"

The boy ducked his head, refusing to meet his father's eyes.

"Abe..."

He nodded, slowly rubbing his foot against the carpet.

Henry opened his mouth, but then closed it with a sigh. "Come here."

Abe took the Doctor's hand, still refusing to look up.

"Abraham," He bent down, balancing the clock on his knee, "Let's fix the clock - together."

"But, I already did fix it..."

Henry smiled. "You certainly made an admirable effort, but see these?" He gestured towards the spare parts littering the coverlet.

Abe nodded.

"Those need to be in the clock – it won't work correctly if they're not replaced."

"Oh." Abe was silent for a moment before pulling his hand free from his father's and running back to his bed, carefully gathering up the gears and wires and carrying them back to Henry with a small smile on his face. "Can we start now?"

Henry stood up and placed the cuckoo clock on Abe's bed, carefully gathering up the pieces he was handed. "Yes, we may." He carefully took the back off the clock, studiously not thinking about how long it would take to repair on his own. "But first, we have to take it all apart again." Abe clambered up beside his dad, pressed up against his side and watching Henry's hands with interest as the doctor began to lift everything out of the clock and lay it out on the bed.

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><p><em>Present Day<em>

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><p>Henry walked down the stairs by memory, absorbed in an old book he had recently found in Abe's purchases. As he had heard Abe in the dining room last, he made his way there, meaning to ask if he could request that the book not be sold. As he walked into the dining room, he looked up to see Abe staring into a small, wooden crate; lost in memory.<p>

"Abraham?"

He looked up. "Oh. I just got a cuckoo clock, and was remembering the time I tried to 'fix' Mom's."

Henry grinned, closing the book. "Yes, that was...interesting. Do you remember what happened to it?"

Abe frowned, thinking back. "No...it just seemed to suddenly be fixed – why?"

"I took it into a clockmaker the next day I went to work, and it was repaired by evening. Much to my surprise, I might add, as I was convinced the damage was irreparable."

He grinned. "But at least I kept the fastenings!" He tucked the padding back around the clock in the crate, and shut the lid. "Did you ever tell her?"

The smile faded from Henry's face, and he sighed. "No, I didn't get the chance to... I meant to, later – as I knew she would find it humourous in hindsight, but the time never seemed to come; and then she was just...gone."

Silence filled the dining room. Suddenly, it was broken by the whistled 'cuckoo!' from within the box. Abe and Henry looked down and the crate and then at each other in surprise; and then a smile lit up first Abe's, then Henry's face.

A coincidence? There were no such things...

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><p><em>AN: And this is what happens when I spend a day repairing a cuckoo clock and learning about them... *sighs* And, for reference, Abe is about five in this story. Thank you for taking the time to read this! Gramercy, and God bless!<em>


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